


His Lover

by CoffeeQuill



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arranged Marriage, Betrayal, Broken Engagement, Broken Promises, Dark Church AU, Emotional Hurt, False Accusations, First Love, First Time, Forbidden Love, Happy Ending, Hate Speech, Homophobia, Infidelity, Intolerance, Kissing, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual hurt, NSFW, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Physical Infidelity, Religion, Religious Intolerance, Running Away, Secret Relationship, Smut, rape accusations, religious homophobia, secrecy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeQuill/pseuds/CoffeeQuill
Summary: Living in the religious town of Mount Vernon, Alex has never really given himself to his faith. He's had little reason to trust. He's never felt enlightened.That is until he meets John Laurens. He's handsome, smart, and sweet - and suddenly the pastor's hateful words hit a lot harder.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The mood of the fic can be found by listening to 'Her Lover' by Ally Hills. At least, I listened to it while writing.
> 
> Note that the fic covers the topic of false rape accusations.

Alexander Hamilton-Washington is deeply, hopelessly in love. 

It has grabbed him by the collar and will not let go. It tears through him like a bullet at the sight of soft doe eyes. It sends butterflies to his stomach when soft tanned skin brushes against his own. It tugs at his heartstrings when he’s given a bright smile.

And it punches him in the gut when he’s reminded that the object of his affections is a boy, and a Laurens at that.

He lies awake at night, his stomach twisting in knots that he can’t untie. The wind whistles past his window and he shivers. No, sleep will not come easy tonight. Not when he will be seeing his beloved in the morning.

He rolls over and gazes at his desk, its wood glowing in the moonlight that shines through his window. Resting on it is a folded letter, hiding away the neat penmanship that professes his love. That empties his heart. That sings John’s praises, of both his looks and his endless compassion. A love letter that will be read and then burned.

Perhaps John will answer this one.

Perhaps tomorrow they will step around the corner of the church to let their hands roam. John will let Alex take the lead, trembling under the weight of his unspoken desires, and rest his head on Alex’s shoulder so as to not look him in the eye. He’ll grip the back of Alex’s coat, and both will jump at every sound.

Or they’ll go to the graveyard, stepping behind the oak tree to keep out of sight. Their lips will touch in that familiar and Alex will ravage John’s mouth for what it’s worth, rubbing the older boy to hardness; when he has John whimpering for more, he’ll drop to his knees and take him in his mouth, pinning him back against the tree until John releases. He’ll swallow the evidence and stand, giving John another kiss before he steps out from behind the tree and returns to the church. John will have a moment to recover before following.

They’ll walk into the church and give their guardians reassuring smiles before joining the rest of their parish’s teenagers in the front corner, and they’ll listen to their priest rant against the latest “sin” in the town beside theirs. When they have a chance, Alex will brush his fingers against John’s, giving him silent reassurance. No, they’re  _ not _ sick. They’re  _ not _ giving up their place in Heaven.

Alex sighs and rolls over, gazing out the window. The trees are bare and heavy with snow. The town’s workers will soon clear the way and it won’t be long before the townsfolk are heading to the church, bright and early, to mingle and talk before the service starts. They’ll trade gossip and the children will run around to play, stopping only when their parents scold them for messing up their Sunday best.

The street lights flicker in their boxes. Alex watches as a man in a long black coat staggers through the snow, taking a large swig from a canteen. He wraps his arms around himself; he may not be out in the cold, but lying here alone without a warm body to share heat is enough to have him shiver. He tugs the blankets up to his chin and takes a deep breath, becoming still.

He closes his eyes. In a few hours, his adopted father will knock on his door and tell him to get up and dressed. His adopted mother will have breakfast made downstairs and he’ll go down to eat, silent as always while Jacky rambles on about something unimportant and Patsy argues with Martha about her dress. Gilbert will be writing some other letter to his relatives in France or reading. It’s a familiar Sunday routine he doesn’t care to change.

How easy to change, though. A handful of words, and everything would change.  _ I’m in love with John Laurens. _ There would be silence, followed by the sound of everyone putting down whatever they were holding. Maybe George would grab him by the arm, pull him to the other room to scold him in private, his words low and harsh - the tone he used that wasn’t yelling, but enough to instill shame in all four children.

He sighs and rubs at his eyes. He can simply take a nap after mass, but would be nearly falling asleep during service when he wants to relish every moment he can beside John. Skipping was considered a sin that had to be confessed, anyway.

He rolls onto his side, then presses himself into the mattress. If he lays still, maybe he’ll fall asleep. Maybe the hours will tick by and he’ll be ever closer to seeing John.

It feels like the hours have passed when he finally drifts off.

\-----

The letter is tucked safely into the inside pocket of his jacket when he sits at the kitchen table.

Jacky glances up at him before looking back down to his book, spooning porridge into his mouth. Patsy is sitting beside him, perfectly still as she eats, letting Martha twist her hair into a french braid. Gilbert is scribbling down a letter in French and dips his quill in an inkpot. Alex slides into his seat beside the Frenchman and picks up his spoon, beginning to down the porridge.

George walks in, buttoning his waistcoat. They let out a mumbled chorus of “Good morning, Dad,” each more focused on the food before them.

“Good morning, children.” George looks at them each with a sort of pride in his eyes before he walks to his seat at the head of the table. He sets a hand on Jacky’s shoulder, presses a kiss to the top of Patsy’s head as Martha finishes the bow, and slides into his seat. He gives Alex and Gilbert a nod and a smile before he begins to eat.

Alex smiles back, then feels his stomach do a flip. If only they knew.

“Jacky,” George says as he picks up the morning’s paper. “Could you go out to the front and see if the carriage is ready?”

Jacky nods and stands, setting a marker in his book. He turns and walks out of the room.

“Alexander,” Martha says, making a face. “Are you going to go to church with your hair like that?”

Alex reached a hand back to touch his locks; strands stuck out in opposite directions from the messy braid. “I don’t have the patience, I’m afraid,” he said in a soft tone.

“Let me do it.”

Alex eats a last spoonful of porridge before sitting still and straight. Martha’s fingers pull the tie from his hair and begin unraveling the braid. A brush starts to tug through the knots, and Alex lets out an involuntary whine of pain.

“Alex,” Martha scolds, her voice stern. “When was the last time you brushed your hair?”

Alex hesitates. “... It takes too long.”

“If you’d brush it at night and the morning, it would be as fine as Patsy’s.”

Patsy looks up and makes a proud expression, then smirks at Alex. Alex furrows his brows, then sticks his tongue out at her.

“Alex is being mean,” Patsy says quickly, crossing her arms.

“Alex,” George mutters, his eyes scanning over an article.

“She started it.”

“Don’t start  _ anything,  _ either of you,” Martha says sternly, beginning Alex’s braid. “Your little spats are not as amusing to the rest of us as they are to you two.”

Alex and Patsy share a look and an eyeroll.  _ Adults. _

Jacky walks back into the room, his arms behind his back. “The carriage is ready now, Dad,” he says. “Are we to leave now?”

“In a few minutes, Jack. You can put your coats on now.”

Patsy, Jacky and Gilbert are off to get their jackets and Alex waits until Martha has finished the braid before following. He pulls on the thick black coat and buttons it, then glances out at the snow. He can imagine now John’s lips, pale in the cold, his cheeks flushed with red and snowflakes littered across his dark eyelashes. The freckles that splay across his skin, like stars in the sky, and the perfect curl of his hair.

“Alex?” Gilbert is looking at him, a frown on his face. “You’re staring.”

Alex looks up, then blinks and rolls his shoulders. “Sorry. Daydreaming.”

“About what?”

“Nothing. Just… I’d like to go see my friends.”

In just minutes Martha and George join them and soon they’re climbing into the carriage. Alex, Gilbert and Jacky take one side and George and Martha sit on the other, Patsy snug between them with her head on Martha’s shoulder. Alex smoothes down the front of his coat, taking a deep breath as he does.

Oh, how he longs to see his Laurens.

\------

The front yard of the church is teeming with townsfolk. Children are being held by the arm by their parents, gazing at the snow longingly, and a group of teenagers are huddled together, speaking quietly. Another group of adults are laughing, and everyone is dressed in their best.

Alex is scanning the crowd the moment he steps out of the carriage, the letter feeling heavy in the pocket of his jacket. With two feet on the ground, he begins walking towards his peers without a word to his family, anxiousness rushing through his veins. He reaches the group and mutters a response when they greet him, looking for familiar curls and freckles-

A hand presses against the back of his shoulder, the touch fleeting as it disappears in seconds. Alex spins around and gazes into dark eyes, an abyss he can never explore-

“Alexander,” John says, his voice soft and affectionate. “I’ve been waiting.”

“John.” Alex gives him a nod, every muscle in his body itching to embrace the man. He gives a brief bite to his bottom lip. “I need to give you something.”

“Behind the church?” John whispers.

Alex nods. “We have time.” He turns and walks off, slipping through the crowd with ease.

He stops behind the church, standing by the cellar doors. The footprints will be easy to destroy, he knows; the snow surrounding the church has been mostly cleared, and there’s previous foot traffic, so some stomping will clear the fresh tracks.

His eyes fall to the doors, and he frowns, noticing that the lock is open and hanging off a handle. He walks to it and crouches down, about to pull a door open-

“This is too dangerous, Alex.”

Alex turns quickly to look up at John, who has his arms wrapped tight around himself. “The cellar is open,” he says, before pulling a door open. He sets a foot on the steps and John is immediately behind him.

The cellar is dark, the rising sun too low to cast light inside. Alex winces when he bumps into a table and curses when he hits a metal shelf; he begins to feel around the shelves, and stops when his hand hits the familiar surface of a wax candle. With a fumbling hand he pulls a box of matches from his pocket; he strikes it and in the small glow, lights the candle. He takes the holder and turns around.

John’s face is illuminated in the small glow, anxiety and restlessness evident in his expression. “We shouldn’t be down here,” he whispers.

They’re standing by the wall, and Alex sets the candle down on the table beside them. “They won’t catch us. I have to give you something.”

“I do, too.”

Alex looks at John in surprise, then opens his coat and pulls the envelope from his pocket. John does the same and they exchange the envelopes.

The weight and thickness of the envelope makes Alex’s brows furrow. “What did you put in here?”

“All the responses I wrote and never had the courage to give you.” John licks his lips, slipping the envelope inside his jacket before he slides his hands in his coat pockets. “... I can’t stand seeing you only once a week.”

“I know the feeling,” Alex says. He gazes at John, then slips the envelope into his pocket and cups the boy’s cheek before kissing him.

John’s hands are on his waist in an instant, pulling him close. Their bodies press together with no space left between and Alex digs a hand into John’s neat ponytail, giving a harsh tug as a whine escapes his throat-

“No, sweetheart.” John pushes him back, and there’s a split moment where Alex fears John will turn and leave him, but his pupils are blown and there’s such  _ lust _ behind it that Alex’s knees nearly give. “No evidence.  _ None.” _

“John,” Alex whimpers.

“I know. I  _ know. _ Lord above, Alex, I want you so mu-”

“I want you inside me.” Alex grabs John’s wrists, pulling them to his chest. “Like that time at the lake. I want you so  _ bad,  _ John, I need you to make me  _ yours, _ right now-”

John pulls his wrists from Alex’s grip. “Are you insane? We’re standing under the  _ church _ , Alex.”

“I don’t care. You know I don’t care.”

“I do. It’s bad enough that - that we’re doing this in the first place, but on holy ground-”

“John, please-”

“I can’t sodomize you and then go listen to that man condemn us! I can’t do it, Alex. The time at the lake was different.”

“Different how?”

“We were alone. We weren’t under a church.” John cups Alex’s cheek with his hand and presses a kiss to the other. “You know I want nothing more than to feel you again, but not like this.”

“When, then?” It comes out as a whimper and Alex grips John’s jacket lapels. “When will you take me again?”

John gazes at him, the light of the candle flickering across his features, then puts a hand over one of Alex’s. “Tuesday night,” he says. “My family is going to stay at my aunt and uncle’s, on the island. They come back Thursday morning. I’ll fake ill and stay home.”

“A whole day?” Alex whispers.

“A whole day, if you can get away from your family for that long.”

“I’ll say whatever I have to.” Alex wraps his arms around John’s neck before pressing a deep kiss to his lips.

John pulls him close again, returning the kiss. Their lips move together smoothly before John takes a step forward - and Alex steps with him, his back hitting the stone wall. “I wish you could be mine,” John mutters against his lips. “Mine to hold and love…”

“I am yours.”

“Not truly. I want to run away with you, and never look back.”

It’s by far the boldest thing John has said to him and Alex stares up at him. “John,” he whispers.

“I know it’s not possible. But it’s all I want in this world. We could go north, and pose as brothers, and…” John takes a shaky breath. “I hate it here.”

“I do, too.”

“I’ve packed before. All the essentials, clothes, ready to run from here.” John gives him another kiss, his lips inches from Alex’s. “I never had the courage. Could never convince myself to leave.”

“I’d go with you,” Alex whispers. “In a heartbeat. Anywhere in the world, if we can be together.”

John runs his hands up Alex’s sides. “You have a family. They love you.”

“So do you.”

“My father is trying to push me to marry a girl. He wants grandchildren and he reckons I should be courting by now. My mother thought so, before she passed.” John presses a soft kiss to Alex’s neck. “... I can’t fulfill their wishes and have a happy life. I’ll never be able to give myself fully to a woman. Only a boy, Alex, and of them only  _ you.” _

Alex stares up at John. Never have they been so open, in both words and affection. “I love you,” he whispers, gripping John’s jacket. “I love you so damn much and it  _ hurts _ when I’m not with you. When we have to wait a week. Say the word and I’ll pack to leave  _ tonight.” _

“I can’t ask you to do that, Alex. Your family needs you here-”

“My family can and will fill whatever hole I leave behind. They brought me into their home and for that I am forever grateful, but they are  _ not _ my true family.” He looks up at John. “... I like it when you’re like this.”

John blinks at him. “Like what?”

“You’re holding me against a wall. Talking about running away. Sounding serious about it. This is you, John, not some church boy that can’t think past the gospels like your father wants you to be.”

“Alex,” John whispers.

“I’m serious, John. I’ll leave with you. Whatever it takes to be happy, I’ll do it.”

John shakes his head, grip tightening on Alex’s waist. “No… no. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“We need to do something. Would you rather keep doing this same song and dance until you’re eventually forced into a marriage? Until George finally does it with me?”

“No. I can’t give you up.”

“I can’t either.” Alex wraps his arms around John’s neck.

John looks down at him, then presses him further into the wall, catching his lips in a deep kiss. “I love you,” he whispers, and stops Alex’s response with another kiss.

Alex tightens his arms, letting John just  _ hold _ him. It feels surreal, like a dream that’s become real. John’s lips move to his neck and he leans his head back, skin tingling at soft kisses pressed to the right spots. John’s hands roam over his hips and thighs, one hand sliding beneath his shirt to touch his skin-

Alex gasps and presses back against the wall. “C-Cold, John-”

“It’ll warm. I want to feel you.”

Alex shudders. “I told you, you can have me now…”

“Wednesday, Alex. I can have you in my bed all day on Wednesday.” John kisses him again, slow and sweet.

Alex relaxes into his arms as they exchange several more kisses. John holds him against his chest, 

Voices, faint but audible, approach the cellar doors and they both freeze. John pushes himself back from the wall and backs up three steps, and Alex grabs the candle off the shelf.

The doors pull open as the voices laugh and Jacky appears on the steps, his arm slung around the waist of a girl Alex recognizes as Eleanor Calvert, Jacky’s intended. “A quick time before church, my love?” Jacky whispers, a charming smirk on his face.

Eleanor giggles. “I’d love that, Jacky.”

“I thought we all had signed a contract for abstinence before marriage, Jacky,” Alex says, straightening up. “Does it not apply to either of you?”

Jacky and Eleanor look up with wide eyes. “Alex,” Jacky says, visibly pale. “Laurens - what are you doing here?”

“A conversation out of the cold,” John says, voice stiff with authority. “And you?”

Jacky pulls Eleanor closer. “None of your business, Laurens.”

“You’ve made your business obvious, Jack,” Alex says. 

Jacky’s eyes narrow at him. “You won’t speak a word of this to Father, Alex.”

“Please,” Eleanor whispers.

Alex puts a hand up in surrender. “I don’t care whose virtue you’ve soiled, Jacky. We were leaving anyway.” He glances at John and feels the same disappointment in John’s eyes that they’ve lost a private space.

He blows out the candle and sets it back on the shelf, then walks to the stairs, climbing up. The bright sky is blinding at first but his eyes adjust and he looks around at the white snow, stretching on for miles. Jacky and Eleanor’s rushed whispers fade away in the wind.

A hand sets on his back and he looks back at John. “Wednesday,” John murmurs. “If you need an excuse, I’m helping you with Spanish.”

“Kiss me again,” Alex whispers.

John glances around but wraps his arms around Alex in a tight bear hug from behind. Alex turns his head to the side and their lips meet in a deep kiss.

It only lasts a few seconds before John pulls away and steps back. “You go first,” he whispers.

“Wednesday,” Alex murmurs, giving John a smile before he turns and walks off. He feels giddy and free, his heart soaring among the clouds, knowing that he’ll get to spend a day with his lover without fear of being caught. They’ll have all day to lay in bed and kiss all they want, like they just did in the cellar. Far away from-

“How long have you and Laurens been sneaking off with each other?”

Alex freezes and looks up at the man standing ahead of him, leaning against the wall of the church. “Gil,” he forces out. “Did you - you see?”

“That kiss? I did.” Gilbert has a smirk on his face, arms crossed. It’s more amusement than any sort of malicious intent. “Both your father and Henry Laurens asked me to find you two. Thought you’d be in the same place.”

Alex stares at him, his heart racing. “Gil, what you saw-”

“-Is none of my business.” Gilbert puts one hand up. “You’re a brother to me, Alex. Laurens seems a good man, and you know my feelings towards your religion.”

Alex lets out the breath he’s been holding. “ _ Thank you, _ Gil. Thank you.”

“I have to give you credit for being discreet. Well,” he shrugs, “except for that kiss you just had. But I would not have suspected you two.”

“Good,” Alex whispers, and he presses a hand to his chest to feel his pulse slowing. “If George found out…”

“He’d tell Henry, and you and John would have to run. I’d like to avoid that.” Gilbert sticks his hands in his pockets and glances around at the glistening snow. “Don’t get yourself in trouble.”

“I have no intentions,” Alex says. “Thank you, again.”

They exchanged nods and Alex walks past, returning to the crowd of townsfolk. A few people have begun to filter into the church and Alex slips through the crowd, looking for the rest of his adopted family, and within a minute he manages to find George and Martha.

“Alex,” George says, looking at him with a faint smile. “Where did you and John go?”

“Back of the church,” Alex says. “Less noise. We were discussing school and John offered to help me with Spanish on Wednesday.”

“That’s kind of him,” Martha says, a smile on her face. “It is not your best subject at the moment.”

Alex nods and looks around, his heartbeat finally returning to normal. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Henry Laurens, a hand resting on James’ shoulder, as John steps between James and their sister Martha. John looks back and their eyes meet, and a flutter runs through Alex’s chest. His lips are still swollen and tingling from their kisses and his entire body _ aches  _ to feel John’s hands on him again, pushing him back against a wall,  _ touching _ him.

“Have you seen Jacky, Alex?” George asks, as Gilbert appears at Alex’s side. “He left to find Eleanor, but he hasn’t come back yet.”

“No,” Alex murmurs, glancing at Gilbert. “Haven’t…”

John’s talking with his father and doesn’t look back at Alex, as much as Alex silently begs him to. Alex looks up and follows when George and Martha walk to the church, and John’s letter feels heavy in his pocket.

\-------

He’s clutching the pages when he knocks on the Laurens mansion door.

John opens the door almost immediately and grabs Alex’s hand, pulling him inside. He shuts the door and pushes Alex against it, their lips locking with tongues meeting in the middle. John pulls Alex’s coat off and tosses it in the direction of the coat rack, only for it to sprawl out on the floor.

Alex grips John’s shirt and pushes him back, gasping for breath. “John,” he says. “Is it-”

“My family’s gone and the servants are on the other side of the house. We’re alone.” John pulls Alex against him by the waist, giving him another rough kiss. “...  _ Fuck, _ Alex, I need you in my bed.”

“Language,” Alex whispers with a grin, earning a huff from John. “Show me the way.”

John grabs Alex’s hand and turns on his heel, walking to the staircase that is  _ much _ too grand, in Alex’s opinion. It leads to an open space with several possible directions and John walks them down a wide hallway. Multiple paintings of the family members are hanging here, and Alex can’t help but gape at John’s, the artist making him look regal and confident.

“Don’t look at that,” John mutters. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You look wonderful in it.” Alex smiles and tugs at his hand. “Rather attractive.”

“You flatter me.”

John stops in front of a door and pushes it open. The bedroom Alex steps into is spacious and elegant; a crackling fireplace is across from the king-sized bed and the walls are cream-colored with swirling designs across them. The tops of the walls slowly darken and transform into the beginnings of a night sky, and Alex’s gaze travels to the black ceiling, littered with stars. “John,” he whispered. “This is… beautiful.”

“My father doesn’t like it,” John says, shutting the door behind Alex. “He thinks it’s too distracting.”

Alex looks to a desk standing beneath a window, covered in several sketches and papers. It draws his attention to the papers still in his hand and he turns to John with them, his throat suddenly feeling dry. “John.”

John looks at him. “Yes?”

“Your letters. They’re....”

“Too much?” John looks at him with the slightest hint of nerves. “I’m not a poet like you…”

“No, they’re beautiful. And the drawings… I didn’t realize how talented you are with portraits.” He pulls out a sketch of himself, and it seems as if every detail has been added down to the hair. “I don’t think my letters and sonnets are anything compared to these.”

“Your sonnets are breathtaking, Alex. Your writing ability far exceeds any talent I may have with art.” John pulls the papers from Alex’s hands and sets them on his dresser. “Now, we have a whole day together, and I’d like to get started sooner rather than later.”

Alex smiles and pulls off his light jacket, tossing it aside before he slips out of his boots. When John doesn’t move, he pouts. “Am I the only one to undress?”

John smirks and leans back against the wall. “Perhaps.”

Alex narrows his eyes, then unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off his shoulders. He drops it to the floor, then unties his trousers before he pushes them down and steps out of them. Standing in only undershorts, he crosses his arms. “Now you.”

John’s gaze looks him up and down and he licks his lips before he unbuttons his own shirt. He lets it fall, then unties his trousers and pulls them down. He doesn’t let Alex get a word in before he closes the distance between them, pressing a kiss to his lips.

Alex wraps his arms around John’s neck, digging his fingers into the curls that fall loose. “I need you,” he whispers when their lips part. He tugs at John’s hair, making John’s arms wrap tight around his waist. “Please.”

John presses open-mouthed kisses to Alex’s neck, then gives a gentle bite, tongue flicking across the skin. He turns them both and walks them back until Alex hits the wall, and he takes Alex’s hands and pins them above his head, their fingers intertwining. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice low and arousing. “You don’t realize the things I want to do to you.”

Alex widens his stance and pushes his hips out, his undershorts quickly becoming too tight. “A-Are those things appropriate for a Laurens boy to do to another man?”

“Is it appropriate for a Washington boy to be near naked in my bedroom, practically begging me to sodomize him?” John growls, pressing his hips against Alex’s. “I think not.”

_ “John,”  _ Alex whimpers, struggling to grind himself against John properly. “Please, hurry  _ up.” _

“Quiet, Alex, or I’ll have you orgasm by yourself,” John snaps. He lets Alex’s hands fall and instead pulls him to the bed by his waist. The curtains surrounding the bed are pulled open and Alex is quick to climb on.

“Do you have lube?” Alex asks, placing himself in the middle of the pillows.

John leans over to grab a bottle of clear liquid off his bedside table, then shifts to pull the curtains shut, leaving only the end facing the fire open for light. He turns back to Alex. “Take those off.”

Alex doesn’t need to be told twice before pulling his undershorts off. He makes a soft whine and spreads his legs as the cool air hits his erection, one hand lazily grasping himself and rubbing.

John tugs his own shorts off and licks his lips, his thick cock dripping with precum. “Damn you, Alex,” he mutters before he opens the bottle of oil, pouring some onto his fingers. He kneels between Alex’s legs and presses one oiled-slicked finger against his hole, “Relax.”

Alex obeys, and his body takes it in so easily it’s  _ breathtaking.  _ He squirms to take it deeper, muscles clamping down, and John pushes in another finger. His hole flutters prettily around the intrusion and Alex’s moan goes straight to John’s cock. He presses in a third finger and the way Alex squirms pull a moan from his own lips.

“Alex,” John whispers, drawing Alex’s attention. “I haven’t… done anything, to release, in a week.”

Alex stares at him for a moment, then nods, grasping his cock. “I’m all yours, John. However you want.”

John digs his teeth into his lip, then spreads his fingers and leans forward to kiss Alex, their tongues meeting. Alex pulls him closer and widens his legs, gasping against his lips when John’s fingers pull out abruptly. “John,” he whimpers.

“Shh.” John grabs the bottle and pours oil into his palm, then applies it to his aching cock. Satisfied it’s enough, he grasps himself and presses the head against Alex’s fluttering hole, pushing inside as slow and gentle as he can.

Alex moans and arches his back, “J-John -  _ fuck!  _ Fuck..”

“Language,” John mutters, and he gives Alex a grin before he begins to thrust. He grasps Alex’s thighs and pulls them over his own legs, keeping Alex at a downwards angle, and he sets a rough pace.

Alex whimpers and wraps his legs around John’s waist, reaching back to grab the headboard. “Harder,” he begs, gasping. “John, pl-please, don’t be gen-”

He’s cut off as John drives into that sweet spot inside him and lets out a squeal, gripping the headboard tighter with sweaty hands. He arches his back and curls his toes, then cries out as John hits the spot again. He gasps for breath and throws his arms around John’s shoulders, pulling him close for leverage. “Fuck, fuck, don’t  _ stop…” _

John pants, burying his face against Alex’s neck as he snaps his hips in rhythm. He’s too close too early, and he wants this to last before he spills his load inside Alex. His thrusts slow and he groans, every muscle in his body straining for orgasm, and he forces himself to a halt.

Alex struggles to draw in breath, staring up at John. “Wh-What - why -  _ John!” _

“I’m close,” John grunts, sliding an arm beneath Alex’s back to hold him. “Damn it, Hamilton, you’re going to kill me…”

“John,  _ please,”  _ Alex whimpers. He shoves a hand between them to grasp his cock, rubbing with desperation. “I need - fuck!” He closes his eyes tightly, moaning.

John lets out his own moan and begins a slow pace of thrusts, pulling Alex into a long and deep kiss. Alex’s muscles clench up and John gasps into his mouth, picking up the pace. When they pull apart, they’re both panting, and John’s thrusts are as forceful as before.

The headboard knocks against the wall with each pump of his hips and Alex  _ loves  _ it, moaning loud and squeaking with every hit. John is  _ perfect, _ pulling out nearly the whole way before he thrusts back in and hits Alex’s prostate with the perfect amount of force. He wants to be claimed, he wants to be dominated, he wants to be John’s and unapologetically so.

He digs his fingers into the mattress for a hold and tightens his legs around John’s waist.  _ “Come,  _ John,” he begs, his breathing shaky. “Please. Please. I want to feel you.”

John gasps and moans, then grabs the headboard with one hand and starts to jerk Alex off with the other. “You first,” he grunts, his hand moving quickly. He gives another hard thrust straight into Alex’s prostate.

Alex comes undone in just seconds, keening as sticky white fluid spurts across his belly. He squirms and curls his toes, shuddering under the intense pleasure of the orgasm. John lets out a chain of curses before he slams deep into Alex, holding himself there as his climax washes over him. After a few moments, they fall limp next to each other, panting.

Alex stares up at the ceiling, chest heaving to catch his breath. “I - Oh -  _ Laurens.”  _ He rolls over and buries his face in John’s loose curls, feeling wonderfully sore. “That was… a-amazing.”

John turns to look at him, a pleased smile on his face. “I didn’t hurt you?”

“Of course not.” Alex gives him a long kiss, their lips moving together smoothly before they part. He presses close and John pulls the blanket up to cover them both. Their legs intertwine and they kiss again, Alex relaxing into John’s arms. The room is nice and warm, the fire giving it a gentle glow, and the light dances across their skin from a distance.

John presses a kiss to Alex’s jaw, arms wrapping around him. “I dreamed of having you here,” he murmurs, running a thumb over his cheek. “So perfect.”

Alex can’t help but blush, leaning his head against John’s shoulder as he began to trace the curve of his muscles with his finger. “I would not call myself perfect.”

“And that is what makes you perfect to me. The fact that you’re perfectly imperfect.” John’s gaze is both adoring and invasive, making Alex squirm. “If this is the only time I can have you in my bed, I’ll enjoy it.”

“I want you in mine,” Alex whispers. “I want  _ you.  _ I want you without the reputations and danger and the religion. This town makes me feel like I’m slowly dying and only you make me feel alive.”

“Poetic as always, Alex,” John says, and he presses a kiss to Alex’s cheek. “Put that in your next letter.”

“I don’t want letters. I want to be able to say it when I please.” Alex runs his fingers over John’s abs, firm and muscular compared to his own. “I want to touch you when I please.”

“In a perfect reality, one of us would be a woman for the other to court and marry.” John rubs his arm gently. “We’re not as lucky as Jacky and Eleanor.”

“Why can’t we have that?” Alex asks, limp and submissive under John’s touch. He can feel John’s seed begin to drip from his hole, and he presses closer. “That happiness? That freedom?”

John cups his cheek in his hand, a smile on his face. “I like to think it’s because our love is worth fighting for. They have it too  _ easy.” _

“Who’s the poet now?” Alex mumbles, closing his eyes. He tilts his head back and relaxes as John noses at his hair, beginning to whisper sweet nothings and vows of love by his ear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after.

His bed is cold and empty. The fire seems to have no effect on the room and the stars on his ceiling are a little less dazzling. Waking up beside Alexander after a nap had been a dream come true and now it has slipped away from him, heading off into the snow like Alex did several hours ago. Hours ago? It was last night. Now it was morning.

His family will be home soon. He can’t march up to the Mount Vernon estate and demand that Alex come home with him. Too daring, too much of a red flag that something else is going on, no matter how much he wants to do it. Won’t have the time.

He sighs and rolls over, gazing at the spot where Alex had slept. He reaches out and touches the space, but it’s cold and empty. He sighs and closes his eyes, replaying the memories again and again in his head. Alex’s soft skin against his own. His pupils blown wide with pleasure. His dark locks fanned out across the pillow and his legs spread to let John inside him. Alex gives him  _ everything,  _ would cut off a finger without question if John asked. What kind of lover is John to not give as much in return? To hesitate again and again when giving himself to Alex? Alex was so  _ ready _ to run away with him, to ditch his family and flee. 

Two timid knocks at his door draw him out of his reverie. “What is it?” he demands, more harshly than he intends.

“Master John, sir,” comes the nervous voice of a female servant. “Your family has just pulled up in the carriage.”

John opens his eyes and sits up with a grumble. “I will be right there.” He sits up and pushes a bed curtain back before he stands and walks to the door. He reaches for the handle, then stops himself. He turns and walks to his closet, grabbing a waistcoat. His father dislikes seeing him in only his sleep clothes, so he may as well look like he was out of bed.

He pulls on a blue waistcoat and a pair of socks, then walks to the door and steps out of the room. He glances down each end of the hallway, then walks towards the main staircase. He can hear the front door creaking open, his father’s voice and the giggling of his younger siblings. “John!” His father calls, and John can’t help but flinch.

“I told him you you’ve come home, sir,” says the female servant who knocked on his door. “He should be down in a moment.”

“I’m here,” John calls, coming to the balcony overlooking the foyer.

Six faces look up at him; his father is pulling off his snowy overcoat, handing it to another servant. Martha is holding Harry’s hand and holding Polly on her hip, ever being the big sister. James is standing by their father, gripping the hem of his under jacket.

“Jacky!” Harry shouts, and he runs to the stairs with James quick to follow. John only makes it to the first landing before both boys slam into him and he stumbles to keep from falling, one hand lashing out to grab at the railing.

“Boys,” their father calls in a stern voice. “Leave John be.”

Harry pouts and his shoulders drop, but James pays no mind. “Up!” he demands, holding his arms out to John.

John is strong enough that James isn’t heavy, and James loves to take advantage of it. John can’t deny him and he bends down to lift James up, setting him on his hip with two arms supporting him. “How long until you stop making me carry you?” he asks with a smile. “Harry stopped being carried when  _ he  _ was seven.” 

“Never,” James says with a grin, even as Harry puffs up with pride. “Never ever.”

John follows Henry down the stairs and goes to Martha, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Before he can get a word to her, Polly squeals and reaches for him with grabby hands. “Macky! Macky!”

“She still won’t say it right,” Martha says, letting out a giggle.

John grins, setting James down despite the boy’s protests, and carefully takes Polly from Martha’s arms. “Hey, what’re you calling me Macky for? That’s not my name. You mean  _ Jacky.” _

“Macky!” Polly kicks her feet and giggles, looking up at him. She and Martha are near mirror images of their late mother, takes all her facial features while each Laurens child has her bouncing brown curls. John smiles and smoothes a few ringlets back, admiring the likeness.

“John.” Their father’s voice draws their attention as soon as he says it. “I need to talk to you, now.”

John shares a glance with Martha before gently placing Polly on the floor. “I will be right back,” he mutters, turning to follow the older Henry through a doorway to the sitting room.

“Mary, would you make us some tea?” Henry asks. The female servant, Mary, nods and quickly leaves the room. “Sit down, John.”

John sits on the white couch, laying back against the cushions. He crosses his legs, ignoring the way Henry raises an eyebrow at the position. “What is it?”

“John, have you considered anyone in this town for a courtship?”

John tenses, then forces himself to relax. He knew Henry would eventually sit him down for this talk, and he’s put at least some thought to worming his way out of it. “I haven’t really, no. No woman has grabbed my attention.”

“I was afraid so.” Henry sighs. “You’re getting older, John. Some your age have children by now. You need to start a courtship.”

“How can I start one when no one has caught my eye?”

“I was discussing this with your aunt and uncle, and they believe there are young women on the island you may take a liking to.” Henry sinks into an armchair. “There are some wealthy bachelorettes for you to choose-”

“I’m really not interested in a relationship right now, Father. I’ve been more focused on art and science than trying to find someone, and I don’t want to marry for the sake of marriage. That would be against God’s will.”

“It would,” Henry agrees, his voice becoming quiet. “But I would suggest, Jacky, that you set art and science aside for a time, and find yourself a good wife. People in the town may start to  _ wonder _ about you.”

John tenses, and he knows exactly what Henry means.  _ “Wonder  _ about me.”

“Men who don’t take wives by now… you know how they tend to turn out. I  _ know _ that’s not how you behave, my boy, but other families would be happy to spread such rumors about the Laurens heir if it discredits our name. Few others are blessed enough to hold the wealth we do.”

John frowns and looks down to see he’s dug his fingers into the cushions. “That’s… that won’t happen.” The mere idea is enough to have his stomach twisting into knots. If the townspeople suspected him of being homosexual, he and Alex couldn’t allow themselves to be seen alone together. They would be forced to distance themselves, to save them both from discovery. Alex would be  _ torn.  _ He can’t let it come to that.

Some of the single women in town are attractive and good-looking, and there are a few John wouldn’t mind faking interest in. None compare to his Alexander, but he would only have to present himself as  _ interested  _ in women. Flirt openly, make a few advances, maybe kiss a girl. Mention to the other boys their age that none of the young women really stood out to him as a mate. When the adults ask about his interests, tell them he’s been looking for the right one. If he can do it right, he and Alex will be safe from suspicions.

“Jack?”

John looks up at his father and blinks, realizing he spaced out. “I - um, yes. I was just thinking. Did you say something?”

Henry gives him an exasperated look. “I  _ said,  _ do you suppose you would have better luck in South Carolina?”

John frowns. “You mean… go back to Charleston to find a wife?”

“You say none of the women here attract you. Perhaps a South Carolinian woman is more your taste, rather than Virginian. I’m beginning to think it is time to move back, anyway, as your mother wished to do.”

John stares at Henry, but before he can speak, Mary walks in with a tray. She sets it down on the table between John and Henry and carefully pours two cups for them.

“Thank you, Mary,” Henry mutters, taking his. John reaches for his cup and takes a teaspoon, putting two spoonfuls of sugar in the tea before stirring it. The words play again and again in his head, like a punch to the gut.  _ Leave Virginia. Back to Charleston. Marriage. A wife he could never really love. Abandoning Alexander Hamilton. _

Letters aren’t enough, Alex said. It’s more true than John realized.

“I have to disagree, Father,” he says, before taking a sip of tea. “I have no desire to return to Charleston. I prefer it here.”

Henry looks at him with an expression of surprise. “You prefer Mount Vernon to Charleston?”

“I do,” he says. “I have friends here I would miss dearly. There’s a feeling of community that does not exist in Charleston. James and Polly may not mind the move, being so young, but I believe Henry and Martha would dislike it.”

“Hm.” Henry sips his tea again and looks into the cup. “If you do not find someone by the spring, then, I should like to send you to Charleston yourself.”

“By  _ spring?”  _ Spring was two months away. “Father, to find a woman here in that amount of time…”

“I don’t wish to rush you in affairs of the heart, my boy, but you understand the cruciality of reputation. You are my heir, and you need a son to be yours. I can’t imagine you having trouble in finding a woman willing to marry you.”

No, he would not have trouble. Several of the young women in the town have already made their interest known. He’s pulled his hands from theirs, stepped away when they press against him. He really could go to the town square and ask the prettiest young woman there to marry him, and he’d most likely be successful. He often wonders if it is because of his good looks or his father’s money.

They all pale in comparison to Alex. Handsome Alex, perfect Alex, smart Alex, who can never put  _ Laurens _ in his name, who will never touch a coin of John’s family fortune and loves him anyway. Alex, who insists he is  _ James and Rachel Hamilton’s son  _ and no one else’s, even when the rest of the world forces  _ Washington  _ on him. How can John ever find someone who would genuinely love him for who he is, the way Alex does?

“I will try, Father,” he says, his voice quiet.

Henry nods and leans back in his chair. “So, what is it you did all of yesterday?”

\------

When he steps back in his room, the conversation is weighing heavy on his shoulders. He pulls off the waistcoat and takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling.

_ People in the town may begin to wonder about you. _

He closes his eyes.  _ What if he’s right?  _ a voice in his head wonders.  _ What if they already are wondering? What if they’ve seen you? You’re putting Alex at risk. You have to protect him. _

“I don’t care for women,” John whispers in response. “How can I do this?”

_ Stay away from Alex. Flirt with the ladies like you flirt with him. Be seen. _

He buries his face in his hands and groans. His body feels hot with both anxiety and shame. He’s answering his own questions and he knows exactly what he has to do, but he imagines Alex’s face, heartbroken and betrayed. It makes his chest ache. How can he hurt Alex like this? Push him aside to save his own reputation?

Not just his own, he reminds himself. Alex’s reputation. Possibly their lives.

So how will he approach Alex about it? Alex will insist there is another way. He’ll want to run away together, maybe to New York. He’ll threaten to go alone, knowing John would give in. Would he give in?

Absolutely.

He walks to his bed and slumps into it, burying his face in the pillow. He’s smart. He’s rich. He should be able to come up with a plan that works, but his mind is drawing a blank. His thoughts are jumbled and nonsensical, unable to hold onto a single one long enough to understand. He lays motionless, anxiety bubbling in his gut and expanding in his chest.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, but the fire in his fireplace has died down to glowing embers. He hears his door swing open but doesn’t acknowledge it until James’s weight hits the bed.

“Jacky!” James whines, stretching out beside John. “Harry’s being mean. He won’t play with me.”

“Why not?” John grumbles, turning his head just enough so his voice isn’t muffled by the pillow.

“He wants a  _ nap,”  _ James says, disgust in his voice. “And naps are  _ awful.  _ You have to play with me!”

“I want a nap, too, Jemmy.” It’s easier to sleep and forget his problems. Push away all thoughts of marriage and secrets. Dream of holding Alex in his arms, pressing kisses to his cheek, to his neck. Grinding their hips together, Alex soon dropping to his knees, his mouth warm and eager-

His body stirs in interest and he pushes those thoughts away. They’re sinful enough; even more so if he gets an erection with his little brother beside him.

“Not you too!” James cries, and he grips a small handful of John’s shirt before tugging at it. “I want someone to play with me! Everyone wants to  _ sleep.” _

“You’ll get older, Jemmy,” John mumbles. “You’ll like naps then. Why don’t you ask Father if he will play with you?”

James pouts. “Daddy never wants to play with me. He says it’s on you and Martha and Harry to play.”

John sighs. “I don’t want to play right now, Jem.”

James becomes quiet, and instead he pulls at John’s arm until he can squirm underneath, snuggling against John’s side. He buries his face into the pillow beside John’s, sniffling, and he curls into the older boy before becoming still. The dying fire lets out a pop and the room becomes silent.

John takes slow, deep breaths in and out through his nose. Slowly, his problems melt away. Marriage slowly leaves his mind. His anxiety and stress follows hand-in-hand. It’s replaced by Alex’s face, smiling and warm, looking back at him with equal love in his eyes. He hears James’ soft breathing as he drifts off to sleep, and John soon follows.

\-----

New snow has fallen and it lays thick over the town like a heavy blanket. It took two days to clear the town square; that Sunday’s mass was forcibly cancelled and the townsfolk read the day’s verses at home with their family. It’s been a week since Alex and John spent the day together.

Alex takes a swig of whiskey. He and Gilbert are sitting on barrels of apples outside the bakery, flasks in hand. Residents are bustling around to restock on supplies from the shops, and across the way, a flock of young women whisper and giggle while sparing glances towards Alex and Gilbert.

“Beauties, they are,” Gilbert says with a sigh before taking a mouthful of whiskey. He swallows. “The shining hair, full lips…”

“They are rather exquisite,” Alex mutters. He glances down at the snow. The attention from women usually has him puffed up with pride, a one-liner rolling off his tongue to make them giggle and blush. It seems today he has no stomach for showing off.

Gilbert glances at him. “I suppose they are nothing to your Laurens.”

Alex looks back at him in surprise. It’s the first time Gilbert has mentioned what happened he witnessed. “I would choose John over them every time,” he says softly, and his heart feels light as he says it. “And I think he would choose me.”

“Who would choose you?”

Alex looks up to see John standing by the corner, leaning against it with hands in his pockets. “Hey,” he says softly, and John’s smile is enough to melt the snow. “I’ve missed you.”

John’s eyes drift to Gilbert and his smile drops, his posture turning stiff.

“It’s okay,” Alex says quickly, sitting up straighter. “He knows. He saw us kiss. It’s okay.”

“He  _ saw us-” _

“Put your claws away, Laurens,” Gilbert says, giving a lazy wave of his hand. “I care not to spoil what you and Alexander have.”

“... You’re  _ okay  _ with it.” John lets himself take a step closer and lets his fingers brush against Alex’s thigh, giving the lightest touch. Alex catches his hand and squeezes before letting it drop.

“Love is love, in my opinion. You are not hurting him, nor is he hurting you. Your little church doesn’t-”

“My father  _ owns _ that little church, thank you,” John snaps.

“John,” Alex says softly, a frown on his face. “Why are you upset?”

John glances at him and there’s something else in his expression; something like anxiety or fear. It disappears before Alex can identify it, and he crosses his arms. “I’m not upset.”

“You’re snapping at Gil for no reason.” Alex licks his dry lips, then stands, his boots crunching in the snow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” John mutters, and he turns away. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No.” Alex reaches out and grabs John’s wrist. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

John looks at him and pulls his hand away, glancing around warily. A moment passes, and his shoulders slump in defeat. “Come with me,” he mutters. “We have to talk.”

They walk to the back of the bakery where they’re alone. John takes Alex’s hands in his; they’re gloved and warm, and it’s a sharp reminder that Alex left his own gloves at home. He runs circles over the back of Alex’s hands with his thumbs, then squeezes. “My father sat me down to talk, the morning after you left,” he says, and the stress is in his voice. “About courtship. Finding a wife.”

Alex tenses, staring up at John.

“He fears that if I don’t start something now, people here will start suspecting me of  _ this.”  _ He squeezes Alex’s hands again. “Loving a man. He does not want that to affect our family name and… he’s given me a sort of ultimatum. I have until the spring to find a woman here I want to marry, and if I cannot, he will send me back to Charleston to stay with family and look there for a wife. He believes I really should be having children by now.”

“Back to Charleston?” Alex whispers, and an ache begins in his chest. “No. You can’t go back.  _ No.” _

“I don’t want to. I don’t want a wife, I don’t want children with one. Damn it, Alex, I want  _ you.” _

“Then what are you doing to do?” Alex asks, looking up at him. “If he’s forcing you to make this decision - what are you going to do?”

“I have to do something.” John lets Alex’s hands fall from his, shoving them in his pockets. “... If I just show the interest, maybe you’ll be safe. I can’t put you in danger.”

“I don’t care about  _ me,  _ John. What about  _ you?  _ He wants you to get married and father children, and you have  _ no _ interest in women.”

“I’ll have to suffer through it,” John whispers. “I’ll find a woman I can tolerate. Maybe it would not be so bad.”

“Jack,” Alex says. “How can you- you said yourself, you would never be happy! If you marry a woman,  _ we’ll  _ be done.”

“And if I marry a woman, no one will suspect me of being homosexual, and you’ll be safe by extension. If I’m suspected, and they see me spend so much time with you-” John stops and takes a deep breath. “I don’t have a choice.”

Alex opens his mouth to argue, but he shuts it. His chest feels hot, his hands sweaty despite the wind, and he takes a deep and shaky breath. “So - So we have limited time together. You’re leaving me.”

“I…” John looks at the snow between them. “I’m not leaving you. Not… now.”

“Not now.” Alex looks down. His heart’s been torn from his chest and it feels hollow inside. His stomach twists into tight knots. “Was Wednesday the last time?”

“Two months, Alex. I have two months to give my father an answer.” John steps closer and cups his cheek. “Wednesday doesn’t have to be the last time. I love you so damn much and I will have you as long as I can. I don’t  _ want _ to do this, Alexander, but-”

“It will protect us.” Alex’s voice is bitter, and he clenches his fists, anger welling up beside the heartbreak. “But in two months I’ll have to see some strange woman on your arm or not see you at all. I only tolerate the damn masses because I get to see  _ you,  _ I get to touch you, feel like you  _ love me.  _ God, John, you’re the only person in this world I can genuinely say I love and care about!”

John stares at him, and Alex can plainly see the guilt in his eyes. He takes a shaky breath and looks at the wall of the bakery. “We knew this was going to happen,” he says, his tone soft. “Why are we surprised?”

Alex stares up at him and swallows back the lump in his throat. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I - John - All I know in this world is that I love you and I want you to be  _ mine.” _

John looks at him for a moment, then sets a hand on his waist before giving him a kiss. “I love you so much, Alex. And I would do  _ anything _ to make you mine. You are the most important thing I have in my life.”

“We can make the most of it,” Alex says, putting a hand over John’s. Gears begin to turn in his head and he looks at John’s lips, aching to be kissed again. “Make a deal.”

“What deal?” John furrows his brows at him.

Alex can’t help but smile. “You know how no one really follows the abstinence rule. The adults just want it kept quiet so their children seem as God-fearing as they should be.”

“... Right.”

“And every single one of those women would jump into bed with a handsome rich boy like you.”

“Alex…?”

Alex licks his lips. “Flirt with whoever you want. Kiss them however you want. But until your wedding, your bed is for me and me  _ only.” _

John opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Alex smiles and kisses his cheek. “Deal?”

“If it makes you happy,” John murmurs. “... How close to my wedding will this deal run?”

“Hm.” Alex smiles. “Perhaps the night before.”

“The night before I say my vows?” John lets out a breath. “Lord Above, you’re a sinner.”

“And I’m yours, John Laurens.” Alex kisses him gently, his heart soaring. “When can I come over again?”

John can’t help a smile and Alex is relieved to see it. He knows that John is being forced to choose, and he’s going along to protect him from the consequences. It still leaves a hole in his chest but he can’t be mad at John for this. No, John has done nothing wrong. John has adored him and touched him and made love to him, drowned him in pleasure and perfect drawings. John gives him so much. What kind of lover would Alex be, to be cross with him for something he can’t control?

And he’s right. They’ve known all along that this would not last. 

“... Tonight, if you’d like.” Alex looks up at him in surprise and John smiles. “After you have supper, come under my window. I know where the servants keep a rope ladder for renovations.”

“How long will I have with you?”

“You could stay the night. I always lock my door, so no one could disturb us.” John glances around before stepping back. “I need to hold you again without needing to look over my shoulder.”

Alex nods slowly, then smiles. “Two weeks ago, you were so paranoid about being discovered. You would not even write back to me.”

“I’m not the only one with heretic influence,” John mutters, glancing back towards the corner.

Alex crosses his arms. “Are you calling me a heretic? Because I am  _ perfectly _ religious, John Laurens. I just believe that the Roman Empire was a very long time ago and we need to update the way we do things.”

“You hate going to church. And you spend time with Gilbert the most, out of everyone in this town, and he does not believe.”

Alex shrugs. “It’s not like he lets everyone  _ know _ he doesn’t believe.” He looks at John’s lips and licks his own. “I suppose running away is still not an option to you.”

“Alex.” John frowns. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“Why are you so against it? We could go to New York and avoid all this marriage stuff entirely. Take new names and be together. Please, John, you said yourself you thought of doing it!”

“If we run away together, they will figure it out.”

“If we run away together, they won’t be able to do anything about it. We’ll be hundreds of miles away.” Alex crosses his arms. “Would you rather give up our relationship than do something to be happy?”

John shakes his head and looks at him. “I’m not running away with you, Alex. I can’t do that to my family, to my brothers and sisters. I am not you.”

Alex falls silent. There is nothing to say back. What could there possibly be to say?

“Come over after dinner. I’ll leave the ladder out for you.” John’s gaze feels colder, more irritation than love. “Stop thinking about running away. I’m not going to do it.”

_ Then why did you bring it up?  _ Alex wants to ask, but he looks at the snow, staying quiet. He doesn’t try to stop John from turning and walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check me out on tumblr! @Coffee-Quill


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The engagement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize in advance.

Her name is Martha Manning and it doesn’t take long for her to capture the hearts of Mount Vernon.

Her father, William, is a business partner of Henry Laurens and the Mannings move to Virginia for business dealings. Martha is an elegant and confident young woman, holding her head high and always standing out with brightly colored gowns. It takes no more than a few weeks for her to gain a circle of friends and a long line of suitors.

John Laurens is at the front of that line before they even meet.

“She is not as awful as you may think,” John tells him. “She’s a smart girl and sweet, too. My father wants her as my wife and I wouldn’t mind her over others.”

It takes all of Alex’s willpower to not scream. It takes everything he has to not throw himself on John in the middle of the church courtyard, claim him there, growl that no girl no matter how pretty or charming had the right to pull them apart.

He stays quiet. He keeps his mouth shut and smiles at John, kisses him when the time is right and keeps his feelings inside. John will understand his emotions, will comfort him and reassure him that his bed belongs to Alex until he’s bound to another, but Alex doesn’t voice it. John will feel guilty, whisper that he doesn’t want this and is doing it to protect them both. Neither of them need the guilt.

He watches, with Gilbert by his side, as John and Martha stroll through the town square, arm in arm. They talk and laugh and John  _ genuinely enjoys  _ her company. Gilbert has to pull him away.

Two weeks after meeting, John and Martha begin courting. Another two weeks later, Martha is wearing an engagement ring.

\------

They collapse on the bed, panting as they come down from their orgasms. John slips out of Alex and pulls him close to his chest, nosing at his neck affectionately.

Alex relaxes in his hold, comfy and sated. He gazes up at John, then reaches up to trace the line of his jaw with a finger before they kiss softly. They trade several slow kisses until they rest in each other’s arms, calmed down.

“You’re amazing,” John murmurs, holding him close.

“So are you,” Alex says softly, before pressing a kiss to his neck. “You said I can stay the night?”

“My brothers won’t disturb us, and my father and Manning are leaving on a trip in the morning. We’ll be fine.”

“And you don’t have anywhere to be with your fiancée?” Alex asks, allowing just a bit of bitterness to slip into his tone.

John’s arms tighten around him and he kisses his hair. “... No plans. You should meet her, Alex. She really  _ is  _ a charming girl.”

Alex shakes his head, curling up. “You know I would rather not.”

John kisses him, slow and gentle. “I know you don’t like this, love. You don’t have to speak it to make your feelings obvious.”

“You never said I have to meet the girl who is taking you from me,” Alex says.

“I never did. But it would have been her or another girl, Alex, and at least with Martha I can stay in Mount Vernon.” John rolls on top of him, looking down with a smile. “I’m putting off the date as long as I can. I have been telling my father I want to finish my law studies before I marry.”

“How much time does that give you?” Alex asks, a frown coming over his features.

“To the end of summer, at least. I’m pushing for Christmas. Martha wishes for spring.” John kisses his hair. “You know I will always be yours in spirit, dear boy. Martha will be my wife in name only.”

Alex wraps his arms around John, closing his eyes. “I’d rather her not be your wife at all,” he murmurs, nuzzling his neck. “I’d rather be your husband. I’d rather be the one with your name.”

“It is not legal, Alex, or surely I would make you mine. The affection I feel for Martha is that of a friend, and you will always be my beloved.”

“Will she know that? Or will she spend decades believing you do love her?”

“I would not have her know it,” John says. “I don’t wish her to suffer as I will. Nor our children, if when we are to have them.”

_ “Children,”  _ Alex groans. “Lord, John, you’ll have to have  _ children _ with her-”

“A son is all I need to have my father off my back.” John squeezes him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’ve talked about this, Alexander. We don’t have another option.”

“Let me be bitter,” Alex grumbles.

John smiles and begins to pepper kisses along Alex’s neck, trailing down to his shoulder. “Bitter is not a good look on you, my love.” He pushes Alex onto his back, then kneels between his legs, bending down to kiss circles around Alex’s navel.

Alex sighs, letting himself go limp beneath John’s ministrations. “A wedding band would not look good on you, darling.”

“There’s a choice in one of those two things,” John murmurs. “I can only stall the time for my wedding, not stop it entirely.”

“Would you simply let me complain, regardless of what can or cannot be done about it?”

“What benefit will that give you?” John runs his fingers over Alex’s thighs, nails scratching just so. Alex takes a deep breath. “It would be good for both of us if you were to enjoy the time we have together. I am doing what I can.”

“I know.” Alex gazes at him through half-lidded eyes, bare skin warmed by the fire. He reaches down to thread his fingers in John’s curls and tugs gently. “You’ll always hold my heart, John Laurens.”

John smiles and tugs at his wrist, pressing a kiss to Alex’s palm. “My heart has always been yours, Alexander Hamilton. It always will be.”

Alex bites his lip. “You’re the only one who calls me Hamilton.”

“It is your name, is it not?” John’s grin matches Alex’s. “You are who you say you are. Though you won’t say it, I know you to be a sweet, intelligent boy who has run off with my heart. I find I do not mind your theft at all.”

Alex wraps his legs around John, ankles locking at his back. “I put that in a letter. You flatter me,” he whispers.

John kisses him. “You said it better.”

“You say it just fine.”

John smiles, then crawls up and kisses Alex, slow and deep. Their mouths move together, tongues meeting. Alex wraps his arms around John’s neck and curls around him, utterly submissive beneath him. He lets out a soft moan as kisses trail down his neck. 

“I’d marry you if I had the choice,” John murmurs, holding him tighter. “I’d propose to you tomorrow, on your birthday. Give you the best ring money can buy and take you to my bed, love you until you cannot scream my name any more. Love you until our wedding day.”

Alex whimpers, his body stirring in absolute interest. “Hamilton or Laurens?” he pants.

John’s hand comes to his cock, gently stroking him back to hardness. “Laurens,” he murmurs. “I want to give you my name. I want to give you everything I have. All of it, yours.”

Alex presses as close to John as he can, letting out a soft moan. Tomorrow the sun will rise and he will be seventeen years old, and tomorrow he will wake in the arms of the one person he truly loves. John promises him gifts and affection, and Alex never wants to leave John’s soft downy bed. Outside their fortress of bedding, the world is cold, and Alex huddles closer to stay warm.

\------

Alex doesn’t stand with John during church anymore. John stands with his brothers and Martha is beside him, their hands clasped or arms hooked in a chaste yet public display of their engagement. Alex does not go with their peers, but stays between Gilbert and Jacky. From behind, he watches John and Martha with envy brewing in his gut. When Gilbert’s hand brushes his own, he realizes he’s gripping the pew with enough force that his knuckles are white. Jacky gives him a strange look.

One particular day, the minister pauses before the departing prayer, and sets the bible aside. He looks at the crowd in silence for a few moments.

“My good people,” he begins with a sigh in his voice. “The bible, the book of God, stands firm on issues of our day. It states  _ clearly  _ that a man lying with another man is a sin worthy of hell.”

Alex looks up. Another homophobic rant - he supposes he should have expected it, after going weeks without one. But this feels different. Sounds different. His mouth and throat feel dry and his palms begin to sweat. He grips the bench harder and glances at Gilbert, who frowns at him.

“A friend of mine in the neighboring town - a priest - has told me of the issues he struggles to keep under control. Teenagers, who engage in intercourse without restraint, and young women who hand away their virginity with no regard for their future husbands. But, as he tells me, the worst of it is the homosexuality that these townsfolk seem to turn a blind eye to. Men committing sin with each other in disgusting, inhuman ways, and try to call it  _ love.”  _ His voice is full of revulsion.

Is his vision getting blurry? It’s too hot. His heart is beating in his chest, every word like a shot of electricity through his chest. Gilbert is saying his name but he doesn’t respond. He feels light-headed, throat dry, he can’t breathe-

“Two men  _ cannot  _ love each other as lovers do, it is not-”

His body hits the floor but he barely feels it. He reaches for something, anything, to pull himself back up, but only succeeds in dropping music books on top of himself. Gilbert is crouched over him, taking his hand, repeating his name again and again. Jacky is just behind him, a concerned expression on his face. Then Gilbert is being pushed away and George is there, speaking softly to him.

He can’t hear anything. The last thing he sees is John’s face, leaning over him with concern, before his vision blackens.

\------

He wakes in his bed.

He can hear voices as he slowly opens his eyes and he stares up at the ceiling, listening to them talk. It’s unintelligible at first but he can pick out Gilbert’s voice, then John’s - whispering, talking softly.

“It is awfully suspicious to them, is it not?” John is saying. “That he faints while the priest speaks against homosexuality?”

“It has been getting hot in the church, with spring coming,” Gilbert says. “They will believe him if he says as such.”

“You know Alex isn’t a fainter. I’ve never seen him faint before.”

“We will have him fake sickness. Nothing major, but enough of an explanation.”

Alex sits up, rubbing at his eyes. He yawns, then looks up at the two of them. Gilbert is lounging in his window seat while John leans against his bookcase. They both look at him with concern and Gilbert stands, “Alex?”

“I fainted?” he asks softly, taking a deep breath before stretching.

“On the church floor, yes. We brought you home.” John walks over and sits beside him on the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Alex leans against him, closing his eyes. “Awful timing…”

“I do not think anyone finds it suspicious,” Gilbert says, shooting a look towards John. “Everyone was more concerned for your health than anything. If you play the card of sickness, you should be absolutely fine.”

John nuzzles his neck, holding him close. “You scared me,” he murmurs. “I thought you were hurt.”

“I feel awful,” Alex grumbles, relaxing in his arms.

Gilbert walks to the door and opens it, leaning out to look in the hallway, before he steps back in. “Father Warren came with us, to check on you. Everyone is down in the sitting room.”

Alex scowls, coming up to hold onto John’s arm.  _ “Why?” _

“You fainted in the church, Alex, during mass. I despise Warren, but he  _ is  _ still a priest.” John kisses his temple. “I would be surprised if he expressed no concern for you.”

“I suppose I have to see him.”

“They say to let you rest. I’m to tell them when you’ve awoken.”

As GIlbert walks out, John presses Alex down into the bed, pressing soft kisses to his lips. “You’re feverish,” he murmurs, a hand pressing against Alex’s forehead.

Alex smiles slightly - he’ll admit that his stomach feels off and his muscles are sore, but under John’s loving touch it hardly matters. He wraps his arms around John’s neck and presses close, sniffling. “... You make me sick with love.”

This is dangerous, he knows. Too dangerous. They don’t have the protection of bed curtains and a locked door is too suspicious if John’s presence is known. The sitting room is nearby and the walls are not as thick as those of the Laurens mansion. One moment of bad timing and someone could come in, see exactly what they are doing, and it will be over. All over. Their relationships, their social status, maybe their lives. 

“Quit being poetic.” John’s tongue flicks against his neck before beginning to suck a love mark. “Your mouth is too talented.”

“I think it’s talented for things other than speaking,” he says breathily, and John’s erection presses against his leg at the words.

“Please,” John moans.

Screw being careful.

Alex slips out from under him and rolls onto his front as John lays on his back. He kneels between John’s legs and unties his belt, licking his lips at the sight of John’s tented trousers - he pulls his trousers and undershorts down. John’s cock fills out with blood, a gentle rosy color. He leans forward and takes the head into his mouth, sucking gently.

John lets out a whine and shifts his hips. “Alex-”

Alex takes John into his throat with one go.

John’s hands come to his hair immediately, tugging as John’s hips buck.  _ “Fuck,  _ Alex, so - so  _ hot  _ -”

Alex takes a deep breath before he begins to bob his head, looking up at John through his lashes. His gag reflex has long since disappeared and his throat can instead take John with ease. He pulls every trick he knows - swirls his tongue just right, hollows his cheeks and drags up slowly, fondles John’s balls in his hand until he has John gasping and flushed.

He’s damn pretty when he’s like this. Loose curls framing his face, cheeks pink and blushing, that wild look of lust; he pulls Alex’s hair to take more of his cock, take all of him, and Alex is more than happy to oblige. He takes John deep into his throat and hollows his cheeks, groaning when his hair is tugged again. How can pain be such a turn-on?

“Alex,” John gasps. “Alex, I’m - fuck it - I’m almost…”

He’s almost disappointed that John is so close so early. After a moment of thought, he pulls back - ignoring John’s whine - and unbuckles his belt before tugging his own trousers and undershorts off. He kicks them aside, then crawls overtop of John; he sticks two fingers in his mouth to wet them, then gives himself brief stretching before he sinks down on John’s cock.

John lets out a string of swears. “Alex, Lord, you’re so damn tight, I - fuck - “

“Language,” Alex mutters, and he can’t help but moan as he settles on John’s cock. He takes a deep breath, then begins to grind himself down. John stretches him out, making him whimper and groan in pleasure.

John rolls his hips up into him, then growls and flips them over in one move; he pins Alex beneath him and kisses his neck as he begins to thrust. Alex lets out a gasp and hooks his legs over John’s hips, aching to be loved and cared for. “John, John, please, oh God-”

The door swings open. Footsteps, the jingle of teacups. “Alexander, sweetheart, did you want some-”

Their heads snap up just as the servant drops the tray - the teapot and cups shatter with the drop, and Alex can’t help but flinch. Martha and the servant stand in the doorway, staring at them with horrified expressions.

He stops breathing. It’s like a noose has been looped around his throat and he can’t breathe no matter how hard he struggles. The heat of arousal is replaced with the lava of shame and guilt and he shoves John off him, sitting up. “Mother, I - it’s - we’re - “ He struggles to form a sentence, pulling the blanket over his lap. Tears threaten to form in his eyes and he blinks them away, shaking instead.

“Mrs. Washington,” John says quickly, redressing himself as the servant begins to pick up the shattered cups. “I can explai-”

“Go,” Martha snarls, such venom in her voice that they both flinch. “Get  _ out  _ of my house, Laurens!”

John doesn’t hesitate. He pulls on his boots, then hurries to the door and slips out. Alex still can hardly breathe and every instinct screams for him to call John back, to be held and cuddled, but he doesn’t dare. Instead he grabs his trousers, pulling them on.

“How long?” Martha demands. Her gaze is so full of fury, disgust, shame - shame because of  _ him,  _ he realizes - and Alex nearly cowers. “How long has that boy been  _ sodomizing  _ you, Alex?”

“I-” He curses himself, struggling to come up with any sort of sentence. His throat seems to close up and he only shakes his head. “D-Don’t say anything. Please.  _ Please.” _

Martha scowls, then turns and storms out with the servant hurrying to follow.

He’s shaking. Shaking badly and he can’t stop.  _ They know they know they know they know  _ repeats again and again in his mind and the hot stone of guilt and shame is too much.

He turns and throws up onto the floor.

He collapses on the mattress and digs his fingers into the sheets, letting out a sob. They’ll throw him out with hateful words, disgusted at having a homosexual in their home. They would regret adopting him and tell him as such. He’d have to go north - this is the south and killing men like him isn’t unheard of. He would have to steal his own horse and ride for New York. New Jersey. Anywhere that isn’t Virginia.

With a twisting stomach, he rolls over and stares up at the ceiling, aching to see John’s stars. He pulls a pillow into his arms and squeezes it, too spent to hold back his tears. It’s over. It’s all over. If God is truly forgiving, maybe John will be safe in his engagement. Maybe he and Martha will marry quickly and they can move into their own home elsewhere, somewhere safe.

How to make a new life for himself? He won’t have money. No contacts, no home, and he hasn’t worked in years. No John to keep his bed warm and comfort him. No Martha to make sure he is eating. Alone, all alone in New York City-

Hands on his arms, tugging at him, his name being said. He blinks before looking up at Gilbert, who is pulling him to sit up. “... What?” he whispers.

“He forced you.”

Alex stares at him. “What... are you talking about?”

“John. He forced you into sodomy. It has been happening for months and you were not willing to risk saying anything, for fear of not being believed.” Gilbert takes his hands, squeezing. “George and Martha are furious, and  _ that  _ is what you tell them.”

It takes him a few seconds to even realize what Gilbert is telling him and he shakes his head, pulling his hands back. “No.  _ No.  _ John never - he would never - “

“Never rape you? They do not  _ know that.  _ You, John and I are the only ones in this world who know what is going on between you two, and no one else. They are going to assume that you both were willing participants and  _ that  _ is what will ruin you.” Gilbert glances towards the door. “You tell them he forced you. Play the victim. It is that or jail, Alex. Possibly death, considering the religious beliefs in this town.”

“If I - If I accuse John of such a thing - what happens to him?” Alex demands. “To do that would hurt him so bad that - he would  _ hate me  _ for it.”

“Not if he understands why you have to do it,” Gilbert says. “Henry Laurens didn’t witness you both in the act. He will never believe it. He will protect John through any accusations, and one of assault? More protecting. More disbelief, on his end, that John would ever do such a thing. Accusing him protects  _ you.” _

“How do you know they will believe me in the first place?”

“Why would they no-” Gilbert cuts himself off at the sound of footsteps, then takes Alex’s wrist. “Start crying. You have to do it.”

Alex takes a deep breath. His stomach is doing somersaults and he may throw up again, but the fear in his chest overrules the other emotions. He thinks of Rachel, the day he knew her to be dead, the day he became an orphan-

It’s replaced by Martha’s face. Angry, disgusted. The tears are more real than he intended, but he buries his face in Gilbert’s shoulder just as his door opens and he lets out a sob. Out of the corner of his eye he can see George and Martha, Jacky behind them.

“Alexander.” George’s voice is almost chillingly calm. “We need to talk.”

Alex doesn’t move. He clings tighter to Gilbert - every fiber of him wants to stay here. He wants to be comforted by his brother, wants John to come back to him. He wants to be held and loved and adored, be worshipped by John’s hands and lips. “Tell them,” Gilbert whispers, but Alex shakes his head, just slightly. “Alex.  _ Tell them.” _

George and Martha are looking at him expectantly, bottled anger behind their looks. He has to answer, he knows, now that Gilbert has put him on the spot. He imagines John’s face, heartbroken and betrayed, horrified that Alex would ever accuse him of such a thing. Would he ever touch Alex again? Too angry, too hurt, to stand being near him again? Would he forget Alex as best he could, happy to marry his fiancee if it means cutting Alex out?

He squeezes his eyes shut. A sob escapes. He can’t do it, he knows, he can’t bring himself to-

“John forced him,” Gilbert says.

_ “What?”  _ George and Martha demand at the same time.

_ You idiot why would you say it John didn’t force me I don’t want this I’d rather be jailed I hate you I hate this why can’t we just be together John will never love me again- _

“Alex,” George says, drawing Alex out of his jumbled thoughts. He’s gripping the handle of the door. “Is this true?”

He trembles. The hole’s been dug and he may as well lie in it.  _ It’s the only way. John has his father’s protection. You need protection, too. _

“Yes,” he whispers. He swallows, then nods. “He… He did.”

He doesn’t notice George leaving. He doesn’t notice Martha’s hand on his back as she murmurs words of comfort. He lets himself cry instead.  _ It will be okay,  _ Gilbert murmurs in his ear.  _ I promise. You have to trust me. _ But it feels as though he can’t trust himself.

\------

The next morning, it storms. Fitting.

Alex stays in his room, refusing to step out of bed. He stares out his window and at the muddy ground, curled up in a ball. Servants bring him breakfast - eggs and toast, cooked the way he likes them. Patsy tries to coax him out, then begs him, but he barely pays her any attention. Martha brings him tea, sits in his rocking chair, but he doesn’t speak to her. His heart aches too bad.

Gilbert comes by around the afternoon. “You can’t stay in bed all day,  _ mon frère,”  _ he says in a joking tone, setting his hand on Alex’s arm.

“Leave me alone,” Alex mutters. “You started it.”

Gilbert frowns. “Would you rather be arrested? Disowned? I  _ promise  _ you, Alex, I have a plan. I didn’t throw that idea at you without one.”

“What plan?” Alex snaps, turning to glare at him. “You  _ forced  _ me to say it. What  _ plan  _ could you have that doesn’t end in John hating me?”

"You go north,” Gilbert says, crossing his arms. “George and Henry are already clashing over this. They will be  _ distracted  _ whilst trying to protect their family names. While they are so busy proving the other wrong and sinful, you and John take horses and ride north. New York, or Connecticut. Boston sounds lovely.”

“John doesn’t want to run away,” Alex snaps. “I’ve tried to convince him. He gets irritated when I bring it up to him, as if - as if  _ he  _ didn’t mention it first!”

“Convince him, brother,” Gilbert said sternly. “If he loves you, he will do it. He won’t be able to stay, either way. I am absolutely certain this entire town will side with you.”

Alex stares at him. “What do you mean by that?”

Gilbert smiles. “John is handsome and rich, but you have your own charm. Everyone is fond of you, more so than John.”

“... You’ll make him a pariah.”

“Quit thinking so much about  _ now,  _ Alex. You run with this story until you and John have the chance to flee. Think about the future, and the life you can live with him.”

“Will he want one with me?” Alex snaps, sitting up. “After I ruin his name and brand him as a criminal? There are  _ no guarantees  _ in your plan, and I wish you had given me some damn time to make a decision!”

“There was _ no _ time, Alex. I did not  _ plan  _ for this to happen. It was spur of the moment - what would you have done otherwise? Confessed to your sins? You would go to jail at best. As adored as you are, there are some who would still kill a man like you - you would be beaten to death at worst. Do you not  _ see,  _ Alex? There was no other option. There  _ is  _ no other option.”

Alex stares at him, then looks back towards the window, glaring at the ground. The self-loathing stirs in his chest, a storm of anguish and regret. “I would rather have taken the beating,” he says. “John never hurt me. He never would.”

Gilbert doesn't respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check me out on tumblr! @coffee-quill


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impulsive boys.

_ You hold my heart in a manner that no one of this world has before and while I should demand my heart back, I find I do not mind your theft in the slightest. _

John glares at the perfect cursive, gripping the paper in his hand. “You fucking liar,” he snaps, tearing it in half. He folds the papers together, then rips them again and again until it is too small to tear anymore. He throws the tiny pieces into the fire, eyes shining with tears that reflect the light.

_ \- long for your touch at night, when my bed is lonely and cold without a second body to warm it. My dear Laurens, if the laws of this land didn’t keep you from my arms, I would- _

He tore it apart, directly down the line. “I  _ believed  _ you,” he snaps. He crumbles the pieces and tosses them in the fire, then takes a long swig of the whiskey sitting beside him. The pages of Alex’s letters are scattered around him, creased and ripped. “I gave up my  _ beliefs  _ for you, and you-”

His hands tremble. He doesn’t trust himself to walk, doesn’t trust himself to step outside his room. Henry shouldn’t be surprised that John knows where the whiskey is kept - it’s hard to not know the secrets of the house you live in - but seeing John drunk would earn himself a tongue lashing he doesn’t want. Doesn’t need.

He glares at the fire as if the burning embers hold the explanation he so desperately wants. He turns and grabs the folded letter by his feet, its edges crisp and blackened from being nearly thrown in the fire with the rest of the papers. He shouldn’t keep reading it - it only fuels his anger further - but he can’t stop himself.

_ It is by Alexander’s word that what Martha witnessed was sexual assault, and that he was forcibly sodomized by John Laurens. _

It would not be as painful if it was George Washington himself casting the accusation. It would hurt less if it were coming from another mouth than Alex’s. But it is the boy he loves who accuses him of rape, of violating him and  _ hurting him- _

He doesn’t want to feel anything. Everything is jumbled and confusing. He feels sick and lonely and the alcohol chases away the anxiety. He gulps down more whiskey and it burns his throat but it feels good - so fucking good compared to the pain in his chest. How can Alex claim to love him when he accuses John of rape?

He crumples the letter into a ball and throws it into the fireplace before slamming his hands on the ground, relishing the sting that shoots across his palms. He lets out a sob, collapsing on the rug. He wants Alex to hold him, kiss him and reassure him that it’s all okay, but God if Alex were here John would punch him across face without hesitation.  _ How dare you say you’re mine and then do this? How dare you let this accusation stand and not have sent me a letter by now? _

There’s a knock at his door and he looks up with teary eyes. “What is it?” he asks, wiping them away.

The door opens and a young servant boy steps inside. “Sir? Ms. Manning is here to see you. Shall she come in?”

John furrows his brows. There was no appointment made for Martha to visit and it catches him off guard. “... Send her in.” He stands up shakily, grabbing the bedpost for support. The servant nods, looking at him curiously before turning away.

Martha steps into the room, wearing a modest lavender dress with her hair pinned up in a neat bun, curls framing her face. Her makeup is gentle, only serving to amplify her beautiful features, and upon seeing John she stares at him. “... Are you alright?”

John wipes at his mouth, looking at the scattered papers on the floor and the two bottles of whiskey. “... Rough night,” he says. “It is… complicated.”

“I would be happy to hear it.” Martha gives him a smile before walking to his desk, sitting in the chair.

John stares at her. He sits in the end of his bed. “We should not be alone with each other. We are not married.”

“Not yet,” Martha says. “We will be, and why not be used to each others’ presence like this?”

“It isn’t proper.”

“I am sure many of the girls in town spent time with their suitors without a chaperone. We are not children, John.”

“The ones without suitors are often… performing certain activities their parents are not aware of,” John says. “Our fathers will... assume things.”

“Let them assume.” Martha stands and walks to the bed, sitting beside John. She takes his hand and her hand is so soft, fitting perfectly in his own. “If I am believed to have slept with a man before marriage, why not with my future husband?”

_ Future husband.  _ Something in his gut stirs in revulsion at the words - it’s wrong, so very wrong, that it comes from a woman’s lips and not a boy’s, not Alex’s. Martha seems to sense his sudden discomfort and rubs circles on the back of his hand with her thumb. “You’ve been drinking,” she says, and when John looks up she is eyeing the whiskey.

“Like I said,” he mutters. “Rough night.”

Martha sets their hands on his thigh, then drops his hand and instead lets hers remain on his leg. John bites his lip. “Have you ever lain with a woman, John?” she asks.

He knows she’s asking about his experience. “No,” he croaks.  _ I’ve only ever had a boy and he’s betrayed me. _

She smiles and gently squeezes his thigh, looking up at him. “Would you like to?”

John stares at her. With the alcohol in his system, he can barely register what she’s saying. “You are… offering…”

“I am not  _ offering.  _ I am not a whore in a brothel. I am  _ suggesting.” _

“Suggesting,” John whispers, “that we…”

Martha bites her lip, then begins to stand. “If it is too forward-”

_ “No.”  _ John catches her hand and pulls her back down to the bed. He wraps an arm around her waist and tilts her head up into a kiss, their lips pressing together.

The world doesn’t stop. There’s no spark, no euphoric rush, no thrill. Martha’s lips are soft and full but they aren’t Alex’s. He sets his hand on her hips, her waist, and every touch reminds him that it isn’t the one he loves beneath him. They pull apart, gasping for breath, and she kisses him again.

They kiss again. Again. Again, until all John can taste is whiskey and her lips. He pulls her beneath him and her hands dig into his curls. They kiss again and her perfume is sweet, her hair smelling of soap. It’s so different from Alex that he almost pulls back.

He promised he wouldn’t do this. He promised that Alex would be the only one in his bed until the day he was married. His stomach churns and he knows this is something he can’t turn back from, can’t reverse. He won’t be able to tell Alex that he kept his promise and refused to touch a woman.

The letter comes to mind.  _ Fuck it.  _ He sits up and pulls off his shirt, tossing it aside. His hands go to his belt and as he tugs it off, he kisses her again.

\------

Alex stares up at John’s window, gripping the parcel in his hands. The spring breeze rustles his hair and he takes a deep breath, struggling to calm himself.

It’s been three days since the incident and John won’t be as upset. It will be okay. John will let him in and Alex can explain and John will understand. He will kiss Alex, agree to run away with him - away from their families and neighbors and those who will judge them. They’ll run to New York and live in the city and be  _ happy.  _

Or so he hopes.

He looks around, then walks to a tree and picks up a pebble. He looks up at the window, then shifts the parcel beneath his arm. He reaches back and chucks the pebble at the window, grimacing at the loud  _ crack.  _

A few seconds pass.  _ Answer,  _ he prays.  _ Please. Please. We need to talk. _

The window opens halfway. “What do you want?” comes John’s voice, faint and monotone.

“To talk,” Alex calls, stepping closer to the house. “I need - I need to explain things to you. Can I come in?”

Silence comes. Then, “Come to the front door.”

Alex bites his lip, then walks around the corner of the house to the front. He stands on the porch, palms sweaty and stomach churning.  _ You don’t know how sorry I am. It wasn’t my idea. I love you so much. _

John opens the door and is wearing a dressing gown over his shirt and trousers, looking exhausted. “What is it?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes.

“Did I wake you?” Alex asks softly.

“... Sort of.” John crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. “You shouldn’t be here, so say whatever it is you want to say.”

His tone is harsh and Alex hesitates. “In your room?”

“Here.”

Alex stares at him, then swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry for… for all that’s happened. I didn’t want it to.”

“What  _ did  _ happen?” John demands. “I have a  _ very different  _ memory, it seems, of what happened in your bedroom.”

Alex tries not to grimace and he slides a hand in his pocket. “I know,’ he says. “You - You didn’t do anything. Martha came in, and she was yelling, a-and after you left… she went to go tell George. Gil walked in and… he gave me that story. I didn’t want to, but when Martha and George came back, we had to do it.”

“Had to?” John huffs. “Alex, you didn’t have to do  _ anything.  _ Who held a gun to your head and demanded that you call me a  _ rapist?” _

“No one, but - John, if I hadn’t done anything, I’d be in  _ jail  _ right now. I probably would not get even a trial - George wouldn’t protect me! We’d be done.”

“We  _ are  _ done, Alex.”

“No -  _ no,  _ John.” Alex reaches for his arm, taking hold of it. “Run away with me, John,  _ please.  _ It’s the only chance we have.”

“There  _ is  _ no chance, don’t you get it?” John snaps. He pulls his arm away. “It’s over, Alex. It was over the moment we were seen.”

“You’re... “ Alex stares at him. “You don’t… love me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You just don’t care to try anymore.” A lump begins to form in his throat. “You don’t love me  _ enough  _ to try.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Alex. We knew this was going to end.”

“We keep saying that, too,” Alex snaps. “That we knew it would end but  _ fuck it,  _ John, is that supposed to make it hurt less?”

John looks at him, falling silent. He crosses his arms and leans against the doorway.

Alex swallows back the lump, then thrusts the package out at John. “You said you were running out of room in your sketchbook,” he says. “I wanted it to be an apology gift before you agreed to run away with me.” When John takes it, he turns away, stepping off the porch.

“I - Alex… Wait. Don’t go.”

He stops and looks back at John, but doesn’t move. John is holding the sketchbook against his chest, conflicting emotions on his face. “... Come in. Please.”

Alex stares at him, then swallows, clenching his fists. “What the hell do you want, John? You can’t say it’s over one second and change your mind the next. You don’t get to do that!”

“I want to go,” John says softly.

Alex stops. His heart is pounding in his chest and his mouth feels dry. “You… what?”

“I want to go,” he repeats. He steps onto the porch. “I need to get away from here. I can’t take it anymore. I thought I could and I  _ can’t,  _ not without you.” He sets the book on the ground before walking up to Alex, taking his hands. “I don’t - I want to be mad and I want to hate you but I  _ can’t.  _ I’ve tried to hate you for the past four days since that stupid letter came but it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispers, looking up at him. “I’m s-so sorry, Jack, I should have sent a letter sooner. Gil has a plan for us to run - we can take our horses and leave before the end of the week. Head up to New York and find somewhere to live in the city. I have money to take with us. It’ll be  _ okay. _ ”

John squeezes his hands. “Tomorrow morning,” he says. “We leave tomorrow morning.”

Alex stares up at him. “I - why? We have at least until the day after. Our fathers are too busy fighting to actually  _ do  _ anything - there’s no trial to escape yet.”

John hesitates. “Come upstairs,” he says. “We have to talk. In private.”

Alex frowns but lets John guide him into the house. They shut the door behind themselves, then walk up the stairs, as quick and quiet as possible to not garner attention. Alex looks around nervously - a single servant seeing him will report it to Henry Laurens and their flight will have to happen even sooner. He sticks to John’s side, holding onto his hand.

They make it to his room without being noticed and John shuts the door behind them. I need you to write me more letters,” he says. “I… burned yours.”

Alex turns to stare at him. “You  _ burned _ them? You said you were keeping them!”

“I was upset,” John mutters. “It wasn’t a good night.”

Alex frowns, then turns and walks to the bed, sitting on the end. “What do you want to talk about?”

John bites his lip, then walks to the bed, sitting beside him. He reaches for Alex’s hand and squeezes it, then instead wraps an arm around him and pulls him into his lap. Alex easily fits, straddling his thighs as he wraps his arms around John’s neck - it’s such a natural position that Alex wonders why the hell they were about to give this up. John buries his face in his shoulder, holding him tightly, and it takes a moment for Alex to realize John is trying to hide his trembling. “Jack?” he whispers, digging a hand into John’s unkempt curls.

John swallows and looks up. His eyes look reddish and miserable, and when Alex kisses him gently, he only looks down. “I broke my promise,” he whispers. “I - I broke it.”

“... What promise?” Alex pulled John’s hair from its bun, beginning to run his fingers through it.

John’s arms shift to hold him tighter. “I slept with her,” he says. Alex freezes and John only pulls him against his chest. “I-I’m sorry, Alex-”

“You  _ slept _ with her?” Alex shoves him back to arm’s length, staring at him. “God, John, you  _ fucking slept-” _

“I was drunk! I was upset and burning your letters and she came in - I was  _ impulsive,  _ Alex, and I regret it  _ so much.  _ I regret every second of it and I need you to  _ understand.” _

“You promised! You promised that-”

“I promised, yeah, and then you went and called me a rapist!”

“To save my life, to save us! Accusing you gave me the same protections from George that you already have from your father. Would you rather me have confessed to what this town thinks is the worst possible crime?”

John falls silent. He looks down. “No,” he says quietly.

Alex huffs, then pulls himself from John’s lap, standing. “You  _ promised…” _

John stands. “What does it  _ matter,  _ really? It was just… sooner rather than later.”

“It was all I  _ had,  _ John!” Alex turns to look at him. “She can have you in public, she can have you in church and in front of your family. She can have your name and your money and your children, everything I  _ can’t!  _ All I asked is that  _ I  _ be the one in your bed until I can’t have you anymore.”

John doesn’t speak, staring at the floor. 

Alex takes a deep breath, then runs a hand through his hair. “... No. No. Whatever.”

John looks up. “Whatever?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning. It won’t matter.”

“And you said  _ I  _ can’t make up my mind,” John mumbles, but there’s no venom behind it. He reaches for Alex’s hand. “... I’m sorry, Alex. I am. I was drunk, and… angry. I was lonely. I regret every second of it. Forgive me?”

Alex frowns. He squeezes John’s hand. “Not right now,” he says softly. He takes a deep breath. “... We’ll talk about it later.”

“Okay,” John whispers.

“So… escaping.” Alex sits beside him and takes his hand. “Gil is distracting my family so no one knows I’m gone. He can do it tomorrow. We both can take our horses, meet at the lake, and then… run. We run and don’t look back.”

“That sounds…” John takes a shaky breath. “That sounds great.”

“We’re impulsive,” Alex whispers.

“We are,” John agrees.

“This can go so wrong.”

“Every time you begged me to go, you didn’t care about what could go wrong.”

“I guess so.” Alex smiles. “I love you too much to care about consequences.”

“Promise me one thing.” John squeezes his hand. “Our love… it isn’t fleeting. When we make it to New York, we won’t tire of each other and think of what could have been different.”

“This fleeting love has lasted a year,” Alex says. “I think it can last a few more.”

“... Good.” John kisses him, a desperate kiss, their lips pressing together. Tears threaten to flood his eyes and he takes a deep breath. “I love you. I love you so much. God, I was… I thought I was ready to throw it all away because of that damn letter.”

“It was a shit thing to do. God, I regret it so  _ much,  _ John, but if we hadn’t - what other option would we have? I just… I could never find the words to explain myself.”

“You always find the words,” John whispers.

“... Not this time, it seems.” Alex sighs and leans against him. “I love you. Those are the only words I can ever rely on.  _ I love you.” _

“I love you too,” John breathes. He turns and gives Alex a kiss, then wraps an arm around his waist. “So… what do we do between now and the morning?”

“We pack,” Alex says. “And we go home, play normal. Until the morning.”

“I don’t want you to leave yet.” John bites his lip, then pulls Alex into his lap. “... Please. I need - I need to forget her. I need to forget all of it.”

Alex gazes at him. “Okay,” he says. He cups John’s cheek, then presses a small kiss to his lips. “... Okay. I’ll stay. Just an hour.”

“Stay for lunch,” John says. “I’ll tell the servants to bring up extra food. We can stay in bed. We can just relax.”

“I can’t be gone for too long. It will be noticed.” Alex gives him another kiss, then sighs. “We can have lunch together every day, all right? When we’re out of here, we will get to wake up in the same bed. Every  _ single  _ day.”

John holds him tighter. “Lord, yes,” he breathes. “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

They both push into a kiss, their arms tightening around each other, until they both pull away for breath. They kiss again, then a second time, their lips tingling and swollen. “I love you,” Alex gasps. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” John whispers. “Every second without you is like drowning. You are the air I need.”

“Poetic,” Alex says.

“Shut up.” John kisses him, then pulls back, letting his hold loosen. “... How hellish have things been for you, then? My father hasn’t been anything but furious these days.”

“I haven’t seen George much,” Alex says. “He’s been in his office this whole time, and I only see him at meals. To be fair, though… I haven’t really left my room. I can’t… face them, face anyone in that house. The servants look at me like I’m a charity case and all I get is pity. It’s a  _ nightmare.” _

“None of the servants go near me,” John sighs. “I suppose I’ve become a monster to them. I only have my siblings for company, and they can only do so much.”

Alex bites his lip, then kisses John again. Their kiss lingers and they pull each other close. Their tongues meet and John rolls on top of him, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” John gasps. “I love you so much. I was a fool to try and throw this away.”

“You were justified,” Alex says. He spreads his legs, letting John rest in the cradle of his hips. “... I ruined your reputation.”

“I broke my promise and slept with a woman I don't love.” John sighs. “We’re both terrible, I suppose.”

“Perfectly terrible?”

John smiles. “I suppose.” He gives Alex another kiss. “... I would have missed kissing you.”

“I would have missed it, too.” Alex grins. “We’ll have time to talk things out in New York. We’ll be fine.”

“I hope.” John looks towards the door. “... Should you go now? Or can you stay a bit?”

Alex bites his lip. He turns and glances out the window. “I should go,” he says. He stands. “... Martha will send lunch to my room. Gil can’t hold out for so long.”

“Wait. What time should I leave tomorrow morning?”

Alex takes a deep breath. “At nine,” he says. “After breakfast. I will get to the lake as soon as I can.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Alex leans in and kisses him. When they pull apart, the air between them feels awfully cold. He turns and walks to the door, adjusting his coat. He feels John’s eyes until he shuts the door behind him.

\------

“Ready to go?”

Alex gazes at his satchels. Two of them, filled with all he can take - one with food, a water canteen, and matches, the other with his most protective clothes. He adjusts his light jacket, then brushes his hand over the gun at his hip. He takes a deep breath before turning to look at Gilbert.

“I think so,” he says softly.

“Good.” Lafayette steps up to him and sets a hand on his shoulder. “The others and I will be having tea out in the garden. You should have time to get your horse and run.”

“Thank you, Gil,” Alex says. “For… everything. Keeping our secret, saving me, helping us…”

“Who am I to deny a man his happiness?” Gilbert smiles. “Make a life with him,  _ Alexandre.  _ Send letters.”

“In French.”

“So they won’t understand.” Gilbert grins, then steps back.

“I’ll send you an address when we have one. Come visit, all right? Before you lose that accent.” Alex smiles. “American accents are boring.”

“I will.” Gilbert takes a deep breath, then glances over his shoulder. “... I should go. I will see you again.”

“You will.”

Alex tries to ignore the twisting in his stomach as Gilbert turns and walks out of the room. He knows, somewhere deep down, that this is not death. He will see Gilbert again, even if the others are cut off. But he will have John, and Gilbert is diligent with his letters, and that is all he needs in life.

He pulls the satchels onto his shoulders. He walks to the ajar door and leans out, watching, waiting; Gilbert’s footsteps fade. All is quiet. The walk to the stables is short, and without hesitation, he walks out.

It takes only a few minutes and no servants are in sight. When he’s standing in the stables, opening the door of the stall, no one walks in. When he leads his mare out, no one stops him. His heart is banging in his chest, threatening to burst, and he climbs on. He takes a deep breath. He digs in a heel and they start off at a trot.

Trees pass. The house gets smaller and smaller. They speed up to a gallop and they pass the road to the town. The road to John’s home passes by in a blur. The road to the trading post goes, too, and then the road to the church - that damn church, that horrid building, where they were forced to hide themselves and listen to red-faced men spew words of hatred. Gone, gone forever, soon to be replaced by city streets and buildings. The bustling noise of New York will be heaven against the deadly silence of Virginia.

The path to the lake comes up. Here, they slow to a trot, and Alex takes a moment to admire the trees. The water appears, glistening and beautiful as it reflects the trees. Their first time was here, the first time they dared to lay down a blanket and push their boundaries. Alex remembered pain, the awful stretching, and unskilled fingers that belonged to both of them; John fumbled with it all, throwing out apologies for every nick from his fingernail or accidental push. It took a while before moans could be distinguished between pain and pleasure, and after the initial discomfort, things became smoother. John’s thrusts took a rhythm and Alex could give him the control, burying his face in his armies until they both spilled themselves.

This town is full of memories. Leaving it behind is a breath of fresh air.

John and his horse are under a tree by the water, both sitting down. John is chewing on an apple, looking up as Alex rode in. “Hey,” he calls. “About time you showed up.”

“Sorry,” Alex says with a grin. He dismounts as John stands, and John catches his arm to pull him in for a kiss. Their lips linger before pulling apart. “... Had to wait for our distraction.”

“Understandable.” John kisses his forehead, then squeezes his arm. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah,” Alex whispers. Taking the reins, he leads his horse back to the path, and John follows with his own mount. At the same time, they climb back up, then begin a canter.

Away from the lake. Away from the town. A road sign comes up, pointing them north in the direction of the next town over, and Alex takes a deep breath. “I’ve never left the state,” he admits. “I barely remember coming here.”

“How old were you?”

“... Six? I don’t remember when my mom surrendered me.” He bites his lip.

John reaches for his hand and takes it. “The world is more than religion fanatics and intolerance. I’ll take you to Europe someday. It’s beautiful in several of those countries, so we’ll have to visit them all.”

“That’d be nice,” Alex says. “... You don’t sound so much like a perfect little church boy anymore.”

“You’ve changed me.” John smiles. “... Or cursed me, you satanic phallus-worshipper, with all your demon helpers.”

Alex lets out a laugh. “Oh, Christ, it sounds ridiculous coming from you.”

“Remember when that scared us? Made us think we were Lucifer’s minions.” John grins. “Funny, now. I wish I had been like you, able to brush it off and not believe.”

“It’s not that I brushed it off. It just didn’t… I didn’t spend my whole life in a church. I was six when the Washingtons first brought me, but you know - I didn’t know anything about religion until then.”

“It’s all I’ve ever known,” John mutters. He bites his lip. “... I know there are genuine religious folk in the world. They care about being good people and they have concern for others. But here…?” He makes a face. “Not here. Rarely in the South.”

“Maybe in the North,” Alex offers. “Maybe it will be better.”

“I hope. For our sake.” John looks up at Alex, then smiles. “Pretty boy.”

“Cute boy,” Alex mumbles.

Across the space, their hands connect and fingers intertwine. The path before them stretches, winding and long, and behind them is the hurt and pain of a suppressed life. What’s in front of them is unknown, unclear, uncharted - but they’ll face it together.

Alex couldn’t ask for anything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More on tumblr - @coffee-quill

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on tumblr! @coffee-quill


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